Asked Only To Be Someone Like Everyone Else
by AlixUnmasqued
Summary: Evelyn has come to inhabit the Opera House as her grandfather has taken the position of new manager and thinks that this is a new chance for her. But right from the start, when her grandfather discovers that dreaded letter signed O.G, deep secrets unfold
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so this is my first attempt at writing something like this, so have patience with me. Also, for your information, this story is based from the movie (2004), musical (by Andrew Webber) and book (by Gaston Leroux). By the way, if you get confused, don't worry! Everything will be explained in time. You shall see.

_Chapter One_

Gripping her grandfather's hands, Evelyn followed him into the unknown area. She listened intently to give off a clue to this mystery that her grandfather kept locked up inside himself. Crinkling her nose, she smelled a perfume of ancient musk.

"Poppy, where are we?" Evelyn whispered, not knowing if she should be silent as she tightened her hold. She felt like a frightened child, clinging to her parent. Muffled voices emerged and she tried to imagine people surrounding her as she walked, unaware, blind. Evelyn was not born without sight, but it seemed to become so as she grew. Just about a year ago she completely lost her use of her eyes. When you loose something so precious, you realize how valuable it was. Now in her darkness, she trusted her grandfather only to take her, safely around. The voices intensified as she stepped further, as did her uncertainties. "Poppy?" She called again.

"You'll see my child." By the sound of his voice, she could easily place the smile on his lips. The one that stretched from ear to ear and even to his eyes, glowing. All worries were shrugged off as his voice spoke so joyously. Thinking of what he said, she noticed the word he had used. 'You'll _see_.' No, she wouldn't. Never again would she see anything, but the black abyss that held her, that eerily nurtured her. She would give up almost anything to see once more. If only for a second, it would still give her some peace, but those dreams would stay as dreams, nothing more. Evelyn widened her eyes, trying to just catch a glimpse, see a flicker, something. Nothing entered through her eyes. No picture of what lay ahead, just her image of a blank black filled page. It was useless trying, she knew, but she still could attempt the impossible. Keep dreaming of the impossible. The creak of a door snapped Evelyn away from her self pity and flooded her back to the whispers and music, filling her ears.

"Maestro, I'm sorry to interrupt." Her grandfather spoke, continuing to lead her. Probably to the person he spoke of, she assumed. She fidgeted with the soft fabric, uncomfortable and unknowing. Her grandfather continued, "Everyone, this is my granddaughter, Evelyn. She'll be staying here as well and it would be grand to give her the same courtesy as you gave me when I arrived." Voices rose to say their welcomes, but no one approached. "I'll let you continue with rehearsal now." Evelyn scrunched her brows in confusion as she was placed in a comfy, velvet seat, her grandfather relaxed beside her.

"What is this, Poppy?" She questioned, trying not to speak too loud.

"Your early birthday present." He answered, his hands in hers, calming and protective.

"I do not know what it is still." She moved her head around as if to motion what was obvious.

"The Opera Populaire." Again with the smile, oozing from his voice. She could tell it was plastered on his face, sight or no sight. Joy dripped from his mouth as he spoke.

"The one Grams used to speak of?" She exclaimed, hushed.

"Yes, yes."

"Oh, I've always wanted to come here. How long are we to stay?" She hugged him tightly, afraid if she let go they would have to depart and return to their home of silence and mourning .

"Whenever you wish. I am the new manager."

"Oh." She gasped and let out a smile that could not be contained. "You are the best." She kissed his cheek, lovingly as if he was her father, as it always had been.

"Evelyn, I must attend to some business soon. Would you like to stay here or come with me? I do not know what you could do while I sort through papers…A bore really."

"I'll stay." She let go of him as he rose from his chair, exiting. She assumed he had already told the others about her condition and knew they would keep an eye on her, sensing the glares already descending upon her., afraid she would wander and get lost in this labyrinth. Even when she could see she had a way of misplacing herself in the most odd places, searching in her land of make believe. Soon she would explore the confinements of the Opera, with no one watching her.

Music seeped from the floor, a melody chiming from the lips of a women and soft pounces of ballet feet gave her the effect she needed in her head. Evelyn always put the pieces in her head to make her own picture, whether it was right or wrong, she liked doing it to give her the illusion of vision. It kept her sane and gave her the appearance that she wasn't completely blind. That she could see in her own way, Without eyes, but ears. Putting together the sounds, like a puzzle, and making the image. When she first lost sight of everything she became so dependent on others, especially her grandfather, which she loathed. As a girl, she was very independent and now, at the age of 19, she had to depend on everyone except herself. Nowadays she would catch herself second guessing her own decisions and doubting things she once was certain of. She loathed the person she was becoming.

She was glad her grandmother couldn't see her like this, in this state. Her grandmother always told her she loved how independent Evelyn was, but right after she'd say those words she'd add on, "But don't be too detached from others. It isn't healthy." Her grandmother was radiant even in her older age and creative as well. Evelyn would always find her doing something artistic inside the household. Painting, singing to her, telling her imaginative stories. Evelyn remember in the late days she would spy on her grandmother, painting a landscape or sometimes an unfamiliar man. When she caught her she would quickly put away the sketches of the figure and display the paintings of lakes and what not, her fair face tinted with rouge as if she had broken a rule, caught in the act. She was always curious as to why she hid the others. They were good, maybe even better than the others. Admiringly, Evelyn complimented her work everyday, telling her grandmother how she wished she could paint as well as her and she would reply, "My sweet Evelyn, you will be. You will be. Besides, I could never be as great as…" And then she would meander into another subject. Evelyn never pressed the subject. Now she wished she had. So many secrets her grandmother had and so did her grandfather. She didn't understand what was so precious to be kept secret from her. Especially in their old age when soon enough they wouldn't be able to say a secret again.

She recalled the day after her grandmother's funeral, all the paintings she had kept dear and riddled Evelyn's mind, were shoved away, hidden even after her body was gone. When her grandfather wasn't looking she had even managed to snatch one while he was packing, but she wanted them all. She felt a bond to them, a beckoning from within. Often at night she would rummage through the house, searching for the lost sketches. She never once found another scrap of paper so she kept the one painting she had managed to sneak, always close, sensing a calmness when she ran her fingers over the indentions that the heavy pencil and paints. The image was burned into her mind even now. The lines blended together to make a masculine jaw, a hard, pained face. How the face haunted her dreams at times when she was a child, but even then, she would wake up to look at the drawing hooked to every scribble. The visage developed in her thoughts, those pleading eyes, begging to be loved. That one thing made her and the painting linked in there own attempts at being adored.

Reality sharply fell back on her as the loud clicks of the Maestro dismissing everyone rattled through her ears. She wondered what time it was, how long she had strayed inside her own mind. She did this a lot as this was the only thing she had now, her own thoughts to keep her company in the night.

Poppy, as Evelyn called him, entered his office to find stacks of papers on his desk that he needed to shuffle through. Plopping into his seat, he began with the first thing he picked up, absently thinking about how bright Evelyn's face had looked when she discovered her early birthday present. He smiled at the image of her glowing features, glimpsing down at the letter in his hand. His grin melted away, the red wax skull staring up at him. He knew of the Phantom, the Opera Ghost, but he assumed he would be dead now. Surely, he contemplated, slowly opening the envelope.

_To the new manager of the establishment,_

_I am writing this letter to inform you that if you wish to keep this Opera House from disaster than it be wise of you to obey my simple rules. One, I require you to keep box five open for my use only and second, a salary of 240,000 francs left on my box's banister. _

_Your obedient servant,_

_O.G._

His eyes scanned the letter once more, his hands shaking. He still was here after all the years. He knew he would not deny this man of anything he asked. He didn't want trouble, especially with his granddaughter here. Also he couldn't just leave, it would break Evelyn's young, fragile heart. After her loss of sight, she always seemed to be withdrawn, despising the thought of having to ask for assistance every where she went. Evelyn's life had been hard to begin with. He just couldn't do that to her. Not after what she has been through. He dug through his pockets, counting up his money and getting a few thousand more from a little safe he had resting near his desk. When he got the correct amount he rushed to box five, wanting no harm to come to anyone, and placed the money in an envelope on the banister as he wrote. He darted away, spotting Evelyn alone and unaware of danger that could be near.

Erik appeared, seemingly, out of nowhere to retrieve his salary. The envelope was sealed with a little note scribbled on the front. "I agree to your demands. Keep you promises." The Phantom smiled at the note. Of course he would as long as they obliged to his orders. Glimpsing down at the rehearsal underway, annoyed, he noticed a girl in the audience, glaring at him. Her hair red like fire spilled over her shoulders, little bows keeping it tamed to the side and there as he studied her, she went unfazed. His initial reaction was to slink back in the shadows, but he could sense that she was somewhere else, only absently watching him. Vacantly staring at him, somewhere deep inside her own mind. Imprisoned in his own mentality, he crept back into the gloom, once more peering down at the envelope, smiling. He always kept his promises.

Poppy dashed to his granddaughter, who was still sitting in her seat, seeming to be somewhere else. He glimpsed up at box five, finding nothing, not even the envelope. He had been there, already taken the money. He hoped that he hadn't noticed Evelyn, remembering the last time he was in this Opera House himself. He was already regretting buying it, but he couldn't go back on his word to Evelyn. He sighed, knowing there way no way out now. Foolishly, he had given into his granddaughter dreams, taking them into his hands. If he took her now, she would shatter. Nothing brought joy to the young girl now. She couldn't see the Opera House, but when she arrived, he could tell she felt it. She felt the happiness, the sadness, the mourning, the music…She was wrapped in this Opera House now, no doubt. Gliding to her, he lightly touched her shoulder in comfort. She jumped slightly, gripping the hand on her, brushing her fingers over his. It was a way she identified people, well at least him. Over the year, she grew to understand every curve, every wrinkle on his slender hands. "Poppy?" She alleged in her serene tone. Looking up at him, as if she could really see him. Her piercing emerald eyes appeared as if they could go straight through him, those beseeching eyes that contained so much sorrow.

"Yes, Evelyn." He squeezed her should, lovingly. "It's time to show you to your room. I had some people put your things in there so you don't have to fret." He moved into the isle so she could get out, her hands going over the chairs to find her way. He wanted to outstretch his hands to aid her, but he knew she would probably pull back, demanding she could do it herself.

Evelyn groped around for her path out of the row of seats, finally in the isle, her hands met with air. She placed a hand on the last chair, following the column of them to the door. Her hand glided over the cool metal of the seats as she made her way to the exit with her grandfather. "Poppy, I really adore it here. It's beautiful." She smiled to herself, thinking of her own imagery of the Opera House. The way it felt gave her the accurate picture of her new home. It already felt like home somehow to her. She had only been her for a few hours and it already nurtured her in its arms. Her soul, touched. The Opera House would do her good for her aching heart. Her aching heart, with so many mourning memories, despair and pain. So much pain dwelt in her body, physical and mental pain. Evelyn was snapped out of her thoughts as her grandfather spoke.

"Yes, it is very beautiful." He replied, not questioning how she knew what it looked like. He knew she had he own ways of seeing, just not with her eyes. She lets her soul feel around for her, lets her hands fondle items to give her sight. For only a year of blindness, she was adjusting to it well, or at least that's what he thought. Deviating, Evelyn grieved of her sightlessness. She couldn't actually examine the Opera House with her eyes. Using her hands, wrongfully putting things together sometimes, not sure if even now she was right or wrong. Doubting herself was something she did all the time now, making her retrace over items, confirming what she thought it came across as. Usually she would scold herself at her new program of doing things. Easily frustrated, she would just stop trying and keep herself in her dark, vast abyss of her mind. Picking up memories of her childhood, pushing back everything she didn't yearn to look at, but even sometimes they would poke out and soar through her. The wicked recollections taunting her to the point where she could go insane.

As she drifted somewhere else she hadn't even realized that Poppy was guiding her through the maze of hallways. "We're here." He said, pushing open a door. Evelyn sauntered in on her dancing feet and placed herself on the smooth, large bed that rested against the right wall. "My room is next door. If you need anything just call for me, I'll hear you. And if I'm not in there, I'll have someone to watch you."

Evelyn scoffed at the thought of someone taking care of her like a baby. She's a nineteen year old, forget that she was blind. She could take care of herself. Watch her, she would.

"I know you don't like these arrangements, but, Evelyn, you need to understand that you need someone to help you sometimes."

"I do not." She retorted, scrunching her eyebrows in distaste.

"No matter what you say, you _will _have someone watching you." He commanded, but not harshly. He knew how tender her heart was, but she could be so rebellious at times. Evelyn bit her lip, forcing back her refusals and stared into space, where she thought he was standing. The bed sunk as her grandfather's weight slunk down on the mattress beside her. He took her hand in his, but she jerked back in her last fight for her solitude. "You know I don't like to be stark with you, but sometimes you can be difficult. I know it's hard for you at this time. Just trust me for now. After a while, you'll understand you can't do everything alone." He breathed. Evelyn fought back her bitter words. It was no use when he made his mind, besides she could always get around to make it work her way. She could be quiet mischievous if she had to be. As the silence grew Poppy rose, exiting with a few last words. "Your watcher will be here soon. Please don't wander until they come." Sighing, he closed the door behind him with a click. Evelyn sat in her darkness, trying to resist temptation. She wanted to explore and if someone else was with her she just couldn't do what she wanted. Groping her way to the door, and opening it, she bumped into a sturdy figure.

"Oh, sorry there." A young girl's voice spoke.

"It's fine." Evelyn tried to visualize the girl in front of her. Something gave her the illusion that she was a ballerina, perhaps. Sometimes, she could tell by the way they spoke, but of course sometimes she was wrong.

"I'm here to give you a tour, Mademoiselle. My name's Alice." Her tone was gentle, somehow elegant.

Evelyn nodded in acknowledgement. "Are you a ballerina?"

"Oh, yes, I am. How did you guess?" She spoke, brightly.

"I have my ways." She smirked.

"I'm so excited that I get to show you around. I can tell you everything about this place." She was an energetic one. "You have beautiful eyes, Mademoiselle."

"Merci. By the way, you can just call me Evelyn." She smiled.

"Ok, M-Evelyn. Um, do you need to hold my hand or something?" She seemed embarrassed asking this question, but she wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable with the inquiry. It sounded as though she was a toddler again, walking in a city with her mother, over protectively, gripping her little hand.

"I'm fine." Evelyn replied. "If I start going off into the wrong direction, then you can turn me around."

"Alright." Alice beamed, starting to walk down the hall. "This is where the Prima Donna's dressing rooms are and where everyone who is important stays, like you and your grandfather."

"Oh." Sliding her hand, gently, over the wall to allow her to refrain herself from running into a wall. One by one, Alice went down the list of Prima Donna, describing each room in perfect detail, but as Evelyn's hand grazed over another door handle, Alice skipped to the next one. "What about this one?" She questioned, stopping, her fingers still resting on the door knob.

"That one is off limits." She explained with a sigh.

"Off limits? Why?" Evelyn started to turn the knob to open this mystery that already had her intrigued.

"No! What if he's in there?" The young girl's voice that so jubilant now cried out in terror.

"Who is _he_?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow her hand still attached to the door.

"The Opera Ghost." She whispered, afraid someone may here.

"There is no such thing." And with that said, she opened the door.

"No!" Alice yelped, blocking her of any entry of the room. Evelyn heard the door slam shut and huffed as her fun was quickly pushed aside. She would get in that room, not now, but later.


	2. Chapter 2

Just so you know there is singing in this one. I'm not the best lyric maker..so give me a break. :) Also their is a little bit quoted lyrics from the movie (2004), but I did that to bring it to some kind of comnnection. Well, I hope you enjoy. Tell me what you think.

_Chapter two_

'How can a person be so afraid of such stories?' Evelyn thought to herself, resting on her bed. After that incident, Alice quickly halted their tour, claiming she had to practice for the upcoming performance. She didn't believe, but Evelyn didn't persist on that note. She sauntered back to her room, and laid on her smooth, soft bed, where she still lied. Her mind scolded herself as she tried to remember the pathway to the room, lost in the labyrinth of the Opera House.

It was a mystery that she yearned to solve. What else did she have to do? What else could a prying, blind girl do in such an extraordinary, baffling place as this? Appeal picked at her and she could only comply to its needing demands. Tonight, when no one stirs, that is when she would tiptoe her way to where no one else dare tread. Her child-like mind buzzed with fantasies of what could possibly behind the door. Why was this Opera Ghost here? What did this so called 'Opera Ghost' want with taunting little girls away in terror? She would soon find out, she hoped. Evelyn's door opened, a slight noise echoing into her acute ears.

"Yes?" She asked, figuring it was probably her grandfather.

"Are you ready for supper, darling?" Poppy inquired with his smooth voice that used to tell her fairytales as a toddler. How the days back then were. She couldn't possibly say happy…

"Evelyn?" He called.

"Oh, no. I'm not really hungry." She declined with a helping smile that satisfied Poppy.

"Alright, but if you change your mind…" He started.

"I won't." She interjected, forgetting her manners. Overlooking her rudeness, he left with a tender goodbye, his footsteps muffled down the hall. Hours passed in a blur as Evelyn waited to hear not a word. When silence only replied, she reached the door, trying her best not to stumble. It took her a little while to absorb where everything was in her new room. Making it to her door without any problem, she pressed her ear to the wood. She wasn't taking any chances.

Slowly easing the door ajar, she crept through the shadow which hopefully kept her confined. Now realizing which way to go, she counted the knobs, lightly going over each one. When her hand went over a dresser, she knew the next door was the one she wanted. Her palms sweaty, wiping them on her night gown, she pushed the door, wide open with creak. A little creepy, Evelyn thought to herself as she intruded. A cool breeze of air rushed upon her, forcing her to shiver. She took a gulp and went further in, arms outstretched.

"Evelyn!" A voice boomed behind her from the doorway. She twisted her head, defeated. She was caught and Poppy wasn't pleased. Back in her room, with the unwelcome help of her grandfather, dragging her. "Did no one tell you _not_ to go in there?!" He started, enraged.

"Yes!" All of a sudden she felt very protective over poor Alice. "I was told. You know I pry." She commented, putting her head down. She could feel his penetrating gaze on her in distaste and disappointment.

"You're meddling ways must cease. I can't have you being nosy all the time. Do you know what could have happened if h-" He caught himself. "I thought after your grandmother died you would grow up! You are a child!" He accused.

"I am no child." Evelyn protested. "I am nineteen. You are the one who _treats_ me as an adolescent!"

"You're age has nothing to do with it. It's how you act. Your grandmother overlooked it and that was her choice, but she is dead! We must go on!"

"Don't say such things!" She bit back. "Leave my room! You're just bitter because you weren't the only one she loved!" Her shouts of resentment resounded throughout the room, leaving her grandfather speechless. Two door slammed and then all went quiet. Salty tears of anguish poured down her cheeks, uncontrollable. Thinking of her grandmother, she remembered how she would sing to her when she would become moody or sad. A night time melody dawned on her. Hoping to quiet her sobs, she sang:

_Close your eyes, my darling._

_Let me keep you safe in my arms._

Evelyn hugged herself, sitting up in the bed.

_You'll never be alone,_

_I'll keep you, always, from harm._

_Sing this melody and I will be there,_

_Can't you since my presence?_

_I'm already here._

_Please stop shedding you tears._

_I'm right here. _

"Are you really here?" She murmured, her head tilted up in questioning.

_Let me save you from_

_Your pain._

Not remembering the rest of the tune, she wandered into her own song.

_Will you be there for me?_

_Even though you are gone._

_Speaking of you,_

_Without you,_

_I feel so alone._

_I may sit in the light,_

_But I feel like I'm in the darkest dark._

_I put on a smile just to make you happy,_

_But are you really right beside me?_

_Please…bring me a sign._

_Bring me an angel…_

In his confinements of his solitude, all he could do was meander about, attempting to forget his music that he used to adore and the woman he gave his heart to. He sat, distressed in his failing endeavors to push away his haunting past. Too long he waited for death to come and sweep him away, to hell or heaven, he no longer cared. But it seemed as if death also rejected him, leaving him in this miserable life. After _she _left it appeared as if he had froze in age. He had lost count of the years long ago and even he doesn't know how old he truly was.

Sighing in despair, he glimpsed over at his trashed lair. Something he seemed to do every night, blaming himself and his music, he would thrashed about in his rage, spilling papers everywhere, ripping sheets. He refused to make another piece of work. No more music. He said this, but he knew his obsession would overcome him at times, ideas sprouted in his head of new melodies. He would never write them down though, repudiate to succumb to his own wishes. He remembered each line clearly enough to have no need to jot it down. It was in his thoughts. It was in his heart. The lyrics pushed through his barricade at a moment, pouring from his soul:

_In my solitude,_

_All I heard was music,_

_Letting my soul free._

_Then I heard her voice._

_Knowing she was to become_

_A part of me._

_In my darkness,_

_I finally saw a light,_

_Glistening brightly, _

_A majestic splendor._

_It could only be her,_

_Inside my mind._

_She captivated this heart,_

_I had no longer known I had._

_She gave this being a meaning,_

_A new kind of feeling,_

_Stirs within._

_Where do I begin, mon cheririe?_

_The she deserted me,_

_She had hardly left,_

_Before I was bereft. _

_This music brings me such sorrow,_

_Now._

_All I hav_e i_s to wallow,_

_In the shadow of my past._

As his words soared to an end, he heard another voice. Someone else was singing with the same passion, the same pain.

_But wait,_

_I here someone calling to me,_

_at last._

It was as if the singer called to him with her chimes, mesmerizing him instantly. Jumping in the boat, he rowed quickly, frightened the voice would cease. Already, he new the part to their unknown duet.

_A voice which beckons_

_Me oh so softly,_

_Rattling through these cement_

_Walls that consume me._

_Do I dare come near?_

_Sing, ma voix, I draw closer._

_Following that melody,_

_Oh, sing to me._

_So long has it been,_

_Since I departed within._

_To the garish lights above._

_So long I slunk in the shadows,_

_Rejecting myself, down below._

_He thinks, Sing to me, my love._

From her room, Evelyn cried into her pillow. How could such mischief bring such hurt? Nothing was left , but for her to pour her heart out to the only one she knew:

_Come to me, an angel._

_Give me some direction,_

_A passage to follow._

_Oh, how could you curse me so?_

_What wickedness have I done,_

_To forsake me._

Erik, hiding behind the walls, watched the girl, engrossed by her esquisite, subtle voice.

_I weep on no shoulder._

_I've never stressed an objection._

_Yet, here I am._

_No mother, to love._

_No father, to adore._

_Left cold, to the core._

_Bring me a soothing presence._

_Give me something serene._

_I thought you spoke in truth._

As if only speaking to herself, tears in her eyes, she whispered:

_Grandmother, you promised me._

Rage and pain wallowed inside her frail body. Something inside her clicked and softly she sang in grief:

_Down that path  
into darkness  
deep as hell,_

_My mind, its own disturbing,_

_Sinister dungeon._

_I know it so well._

_Please…_

Whimpering, Evelyn continued, pushing back her sobs. Erik saw this as his chance and before he even thought, music entered his voice, singing with her of his paralleling agony.

_Lead me, save me  
from my solitude . . ._

His voice entered the room, enveloping Evelyn with his lyrics, his harmonious song coming from everywhere. It was as if both souls knew each other's longings, connected in misery. Evelyn lifted her head as the other voice sang with her, a duet of pain.

_Then at last, a voice in the gloom  
Seemed to cry,_

_**Erik:**_

_I hear you;  
I hear your fears,  
Your torment and your tears._

**Evelyn:**

_And now, do I hear a voice?_

_Calling from the darkness._

_I know I heard,_

_I feel your presence._

_Am I denied to hear you again?_

_Will you not draw near?_

_You distance yourself._

_Do not be afraid._

Evelyn stood, her unseeing eyes, searching.

_Come as an escort,_

_Direct me as you can._

_Come closer to me_

_In reach of my hand._

_Your soul speaks_

_Through echoes._

_You are so close_

_But out of my reach._

_Come near, strange voice,_

_I beseech,_

_I plead to you._

_Silence only answers._

_Have you already abandoned me,_

_Quiet Angel?_

_**Erik:**_

_Dare not call me so, _

_I am nothing such._

_Already, I've spoken _

_Vastly too much._

_**Evelyn:**_

_You speak of revealing secrets,_

_Yet, nothing do I know, _

_Speak to me,_

_Sing with me, once again._

_Your melody fills my soul_

_With such passion,_

_I dare not say._

_Searching inside,_

_I've never felt this way._

_As if my sight returned,_

_As if my eyes could see._

_This sensation is so addicting._

_End this tormenting trial,_

_Speak!_

_I shall be silent._

Everything else was also silent. Including the mysterious man. He had left her, blind,


	3. Chapter 3

So, here we humbly are on Chapter three, awaiting for new mysteries. I'm sorry for the briefness of this one. I only wanted to finish this chapter before the night was over and as it draws near, I get myself to a stopping point. The next one will be longer, I hope. (reviews are loved, thanks!)

**Chapter Three**

Trembling, Evelyn poured out more sorrow in her tears. Attempting to wipe them away, she silently cursed the voice for leaving her in her moment of need. She wanted the unidentifiable voice to return, his tune, caressing her into a cocoon of unknown pleasure. She had proclaimed secrets to this unknown person, trustingly. _Why? _How had she been to foolish? In her weak state, she let the voice, venture into her displayed anguish. That downy, yet vicious melody that entered her soul, inviting. _Where had it gone? _

Clenching his fists and grounding his teeth, Erik paced through out his lair. If anything got in his way of walking he violently would hurl it out of his path., banging noises echoing every few minutes. _How stupid was he to go? And worse, leave the poor girl in such a state of distress! Oh, what a monster he was._ His fingers dug into his distorted cheek as he peeked at his figure in a long mirror that rested on a stone wall. In loathing of his appearance he thrust his hand into the mirror where his menacing face stared back, mockingly._ How he hated himself! Why could he not just die in his pity? Could God not comply to one of his wishes such as this? _The mirror cracked under his blow, a few fragments scattering to the floor. He ignored the seething pain surging in his knuckle, refusing to nurture his wound. _A monster such as him should only be allowed to feel what he felt now, throbbing hurt._ Feeling a stare piercing through him, he glanced to the floor where a candle flickered, revealing an old sketch of his past love, Christine. How he had given his soul, his music, his heart to her and she repaid him. She left him for that fop Raoul. She tore out his heart as she dissolved away in his gondola with Raoul, embracing in their love. _Love, _He spat with such venom. shredding the paper. As the scraps plummeted to the cool ground, he stomped away to his chamber's.

Everything in the cast lair reminded him of past memories. Haunting memories filled with distress, aches and tempting vengeance. How he craved to hang the man behind his pain, but it wasn't Raoul who had destined him into this solitude. If he hadn't deceived Christine in the very beginning maybe things would be different. But even then, how could Christine fall in love with such a rigid, horrible looking man? He had only the choice of tricking her into trust. He clutched at his aching heart, taking a seat down on his massive bed. These memories always plucked at the wrong strings. How dare this new girl mislead him into coming from his shadows. Almost he had gone into her room, but thankfully he snapped out of his state of haze and confusion. Never had a voice summoned him from the depths of the dark, except…_Christine…_Tears silently crept from his eyes, sending his into a fit of madness. How the thought of the one he loved and would continue to love until the awaiting day of his death. troubled him. _I gave you everything. _He whimpered as he took off the leather cloth to clean the sticky tears that clung to his mask. The sulking ceased as he remember what bitter end he had concluded to. _She left you, fool. Stop mourning. No tears can lead her back to this dungeon of darkness. _He clicked his jaw, grinding his teeth in a show of distaste. _Dare I say, is their a man behind this monster anymore? _He questioned himself, placing his mask back on his pained visage.

_Why did I come back? What was here for me to regain? _He recalled when, after the vengeful mob trashed his lair, returning, to rebuild his murky home. After the accident, no one had bothered themselves coming down here to check the where about of this demon, for they assumed he was long gone. He wished they were right, chastising himself for his imprudent homecoming. Longing for death, he lied under the sheets, sweat sticking to his thin, white shirt. He sighed in frustration, thinking once again of the angelic voice of the red head he had hurried away from. _He shouldn't have uttered a word to the girl, his voice soothed her to a point of addiction to the serenity. But hadn't he known this. Was that not his intentions? Had he not come to bring her peace of mind, if only for a minute, as he had Christine? _Trapped in thought, he fought his way into fits of sleep, hoping in the night, the reaper would visit.

Evelyn, refusing to let her eyes shut for fear of slumber, waited for the voice. She knew, deep down, it would not return, at least for now, but she couldn't help but linger to the hope of another visit. Pain crashed down on her as if they were violent waves, thrashing against her heart. _See what you done now? _A little voice in her head chimed. _Someone else you scared away. At least they had no knowledge of your blindness. For then the voice would have only pitied you. What a hollow shell you have become… _She ridiculed herself at her own bitter taste of words. _Do not deny the truth. _Her mind echoed. Digging her head into the soft pillow, she felt like screaming. _I just want to be me again. Can I not at least pretend?_ Her mind shook with laughter at her childish fantasies. She could only pretend as she lay dreaming.

Evelyn conjured up a past memory, when she was content, unaware of how precious things were.

"Grams?" She questioned, sauntering into the drawing room on her light feet. Her grandmother peered up with her radiant face, smiling at the child before her who seemed to have just woken from a dream. Rubbing the sleep dust away from her eyes, little Evelyn sat next to grandmother, her head resting on her shoulders. Evelyn examined the new creations that lay in front of her, her grandmother's works of art, pouring over the desk. In her late age, she had taken a fancy to this way of art and imagination. Though, Evelyn didn't know, they really were all from past experiences.

"What is it would you like, my child?" Her warm, motherly voice whispered in her child sized ear.

"I had a nightmare." She uttered in shame, digging her head into the crook of her grandmother's neck, enveloping Evelyn in a sweet fragrance. "Please sing to me."

Her grandmother smiled at the youngster before her, caressing the girl's small cheeks in her long, slender fingers. "Alright, darling." Softly the song came from her throat, swathing the child into a dream like state. The young child, now nineteen lay in her bed, the lyrics forming on her lips, mutely.

_Come to me, angel._

_Let music caress your soul._

_Let me take you to a world,_

_Which you have never known._

_Bring forth the darkness and the night,_

_Do not be frightened, my child._

_The shadows can not touch you._

_Close your eyes and be in peace for a while._

_The light I hold shall guide you._

_Into fit less slumber._

At the last line, Evelyn would fall asleep in her grandmother's arms as she intended the young child to do. In her whispering voice as she carried her granddaughter back to bed, she spoke once more:

_I must save her._

_Erik, do not let me corrupt her._

_She must never know,_

_Of the Angel of Music that was deep down below._

_Deep down below, _She echoed, remembering how the Phantom haunted her in the Opera House as she was only a mere ballet girl. Her end was coming, she knew it. She could feel death beckon to her. She had already deceived death once, but twice could not be possible. Only a few years did this soul have to live and she would cherish them every waking moment and even as she slept. This old women refused the morbid subject to dampen her spirit as she covered the innocent girl. Evelyn's red, wavy locks spread across the pearl sheets and pillows, her childish features plastered with a face of warmth and purity. Smiling to herself, her grandmother blew out the candle on her bedside table, feeling relief and comfort.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four! Isn't this great? I'm surprised I have been keeping up with this story so well. But it must be because of my fascination with Phantom of the Opera. In this chapter, it was another point of view, just so you know. Btw, I'm planning on writing **another **POTO story. But I have not fully decided yet. (reviews are loved, thanks)

_**Chapter Four **_

Evelyn jerked into alertness as her door was opened with a groan. "Evelyn?" Came a soft. familiar voice.

"Mhmm." She moaned, sitting up, wiping her eyes of sticky tears and sleep.

"Did I wake you?" Alice whispered in the dark, her dancer feet lightly hitting the floor as she drew closer.

"No, no, Alice." She lied, scooting her pillow to the headboard. "Is their something you wanted?"

"Ah, yes. I came to ask if you'd like to have breakfast with me." She spoke silently, now right over Evelyn, breathing light on her cheek.

"I am awfully hungry." Her stomach agreed in a rumble. "Yes, I'd be delighted." She felt a smooth hand press against her, helping her up. "Thank you, but-" She started. _You aren't letting anyone in, Evelyn. Let her help you._ Alice, seeming not to hear her beginning plea, kept her hand laced in hers, guiding her into the hallway and to wherever they would dine.

"Did you sleep well?" Alice muttered in her childish voice. Evelyn wondered how old this girl was, she sounded no older than 14 or so. She could image the adolescent features on her face, afraid in the dark morning's light.

"Oh, yes, very." She fibbed, her hands grazing across the pealing wallpaper_. They needed to fix that. I'll have to say something to Po-_ The name brought back the sharp bitterness of last night's quarrel and she bit her lip, containing the pain. She shouldn't have said those things to him. He pained as well. _Pain, _how they shared it.

"Are you alright?" Alice worried, stopping to turn to the whimpering women. Evelyn hadn't even known that she was sniveling. She quickly pushed the tears away and cleared her throat.

"Of course, I'm fine." She comforted little Alice. Evelyn couldn't think of anything to explain for her soft cries of hurt.

"Okay." Thankfully, Alice knew she didn't want to press the subject which calmed Evelyn. _Alice wasn't that bad at all. Maybe we could be friends.._ Alice watched Evelyn as they continued down the hall, studying her. Her green eyes seemed to pierce through Alice's soul and touched her. _How could such a beautiful girl be repaid with her blindness? _She wondered if she was aware of her beauty. Already stage men spoke of her, late at night in the dorms. She worried for Evelyn's safety sometimes. She had just met her yesterday, but she knew how the men could be when liquor was fresh on their lips.

Alice tightened her grip, protecting. She found it silly how her, a thirteen year old was caring for a women, but she liked it too. She wanted Evelyn to like her, treat her as a sister, for she didn't remember what it was like to have a family. Orphaned and abandoned to the Opera House when she was a lot younger, she couldn't recall the feeling of family. She gnawed at her bottom lip in thought as she whisked Evelyn and herself to the dining room. Turning around once more, to the women with fire as locks, she could see a soreness tugging in her eyes.

"Evie, we're here." She placed Evelyn in a smooth, shiny chair in front of the long dining table. The dining table was filled with elegant candles and numerous breakfast foods that filled her nose with delight. The table was specks with different, vibrant colors of food and it all looked enjoyable.

Evelyn was startled by the new nickname. _Had she ever had a nickname? Once, just one._ Her grandmother called her Evie as well. Slowly scooting into a seat, she whiffed up the rich fragrance of food. Her stomach moaned, telling her to eat. She was starving more than she had expected.

"What would you like? I can make you a plate." Alice helped, standing beside her.

"Everything." She replied, greedily. Alice complied to her wishes and piled her plate with as much of a variety as possible. She sat the plate in front of her and watched as Evelyn ate her food with no problem. She may be blind, but she knew where most things were. Alice slunk into a seat beside her, getting her own plate of food. Evelyn consumed her food, selfishly, filling up the emptiness in her stomach. Trying to only think of the food, she pushed away other feelings.

"Good, hm?" Alice muttered between her bites. Evelyn nodded, food filling her cheeks so that she couldn't give a better reply. "If you're wondering, your grandfather left a while ago. He didn't say where he was going." Alice clarified. Evelyn continued to eat, without say a word.

Alice glared down at her empty plate, wishing she hadn't even spoken of the subject. When she had said the words 'grandfather,' Evelyn face contorted in recollecting pain. Something had happened between the two last night, gossip soared in the Opera House. Someone told her that they had heard loud bickering last night, coming from Evelyn's room. Soon, Evelyn finished her food, shoving her plate to the side and removing the napkin from her lap.

"That was excellent." She smiled, licking her lips.

"I need to start practicing. Um, would you like to join me?" She invited, kindly, stretching as she rose.

"That would be great." _To get her mind off of things…_

"Do you dance?" Alice questioned as she took her to the stage.

"I used to. I did ballet." She replied, thinking: _How long had it been since she had danced? How long had it been since she wore her ballet slippers and pranced around?_

"Oh, maybe you can show me!" She jumped about in her new excitement.

"But…I have no slippers." She retorted, chewing her lip.

"Don't be silly. You can borrow some of mine. You look like you have the same size foot."

Evelyn cursed Alice for her persistence. She couldn't refuse now.

"Up here." Alice lent her a hand as she walked up the steps. Feeling as if on display, Evelyn fidgeted as she slipped on the ballet shoes that Alice had handed her.

"What do you want me to do?" Evelyn asked, moving her feet around in the long forgotten feeling of ballet slippers.

"Anything." Alice beamed, sitting on the stage to watch the blind girl dance.

"I don't remember much, so…" She started with a light tap, twirling as she reminisced all that had been elapsed. Not even afraid of falling off the stage, she continued.

Alice stared in amazement at the elegance of someone without sight. Not the only one, others came from behind the stage to watch. In her own world of creativity, Evelyn remember how her grandmother had taught her all she knew of dance. She taught her everything and now she was gone. As if her dampened thought entered her steps, she stumbled to a stop, tripping to the ground. _Why couldn't she stop thinking about her grandmother? _She had done so good before now. It was this place, the Opera House, but though it brought a twinge of agony, it also cultivated her heart. Clutching her chest, she gave in a sharp breath.

"Are you okay?" Alice fell down beside her, checking for any bruises or pain. _The only pain and bruises were inside. Nothing matter to me on physically, it's what's happening on within that worries me._ Evelyn let out another breath.

"I'm fine." She sighed as Alice hugged her.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to show me some of your ballet." Alice murmured in her ear, hot breath tickling her cheek.

"It's fine, really. Not a scratch." She pushed. Alice assisted her up. Sensing all eyes were on her, Evelyn cringed. Everyone had seen her fall. She awaited the snide remarks she would get. _Blind girls shouldn't be dancing….Blind people should stay in there room. What use are they?_ But no harsh words came, only compliments.

"You were good. Exquisite." Came voices, feminine and masculine. She grinned, maybe she was too easily judgmental. Taking the slippers off and putting her other shoes back on, she asked if Alice could take her back to her room. She needed to rest, to think about things though she didn't want to.

Evelyn's grandfather, dressed in his best black suit with a beautiful bouquet of flowers in hand, slowly sauntered to his wife's grave. He had not been in a while, afraid of his own emotions. Now, fighting back tears, he placed the daisies beside the cement, chiseled with her name. How he missed her. He still had Evelyn, but her own pain dampened his moods. It wasn't Evelyn fault that she resembled his wife, not as much physically, but within. Evelyn's own dreams and talents were so much the same as hers were. Running him over the etched in name of his beloved, he thought of what Evelyn had said last night to him. _'..you weren't the only one she loved…' _The words nipped at his heart. He knew that she had meant that her grandmother loved her too, but she never knew the double meaning of it. His heart ached from the thought. He never acknowledged it, or made his wife believe that he knew, that inside her mind she thought of someone else, always. Always, thinking of someone else.

Beside his wife's tomb, lay his only daughter, Lydie. How young she had died, in birth. Placing a smaller bouquet on Lydie's grave, he remembered how it pained them both when they got news of her death., but they never blamed the baby, Evelyn, for the loss as her father did. He heaved a sigh, _How horrible her father was to her when she grew old enough…_ When she was able, with her small hands and feet, to do as her father said, he treated her like a slave. Beating her with accusing words and belts. She still had scars hidden beneath her dresses from her whippings. When Evelyn was ten she attempted to run away with a neighborhood friend, but her father found her a few hours later, near a pond. He brought her back, only to be welcomed with more physical and mental hurt. Poppy and his wife had turned an eye at first, but when they heard of her endeavor, they took her away from the malevolent man.

Taking her when she slept, he recalled the shouts that boomed inside her old house. Her father wouldn't let her be taken without a fight and a fight he got. _A fight he got…_He reiterated in his mind. Creeping away from the morbid graves, he jumped back into the carriage, returning to the Opera House.

Evelyn awaited for Alice and her to be alone in her chambers, yearning for information. When the door shut, it was time.

"Who is in the forbidden room? Why are you all terrorized by him?" She sat down on her bed, Alice beside her.

"Um.." Alice didn't know what to say. Should she tell?

"Please, I need to know." Evelyn pleaded, her electric emerald eyes glaring into her chocolate ones.

"Okay." She succumbed. "The Phantom of the Opera, he's been torturing everyone who comes here. If we to not comply to his demands, whatever they may be, horrible things happen. But, thankfully, nothing has happened lately." Alice exclaimed, glancing over her should as she spoke.

"How do you know he's still there?" Evelyn questioned, unbelieving.

"I-I'm not sure how to explain it. It's as if you can sense his presence, watching you." She cringed at the thought. "People say he's dead, but if that's true, his ghost remains. I feel it. He's still here, alive or dead." Alice stared at the walls, wishing she could see through the walls, to find the Phantom's secret passages.

"But why does he stay _there_?" She persisted.

"Well, the Phantom's love used to inhabit there and he would visit through that room. Somewhere, he has secret passages into the room and other ones." Alice explained.

"His love? Where is she now?"

"I do not know. She ran off with another man, leaving the Phantom. I couldn't blame her." She scoffed in her adolescent mind.

"I don't blame in for haunting you. It seems like he's been through a lot."

Looking over Evelyn's sudden protectiveness of the Phantom, she continued, "Oh, and his face!"

"What about his face?" Evelyn grabbed Alice's hand, intrigued.

"I heard he is severely distorted on his right side! Oh, truly hideous looking!" Gossip getting the best of this ballet girl, she pressed on, "He wears a mask though. Called the devil's head! What a monster!"

Evelyn stayed quiet. This was all she wanted to hear of the poor Phantom. Poor man, she pitied.

"But I've heard he has a mesmerizing voice. Could hypnotize you in one syllable! It's kind of frightening if you think about it. Oh my!" Alice glanced at the father clock, noticing she was late for practice. "I must leave you, Evie." That was the last thing she said as she opened and shut the door, hastily. _Poor man…_

The poor man she thought of lay beneath the depths of the Opera House, busying himself with insignificant duties of cleaning. Sighing as he picked up the pieces of the sketch he had ripped up last night. How could he have done this? Mourning over the scraps of Christine. He could get angered to no end, but he still loved her and all he had now was his memories of her and his drawings. His paintings of her exquisite face, her lovely visage. He closed his eyes, savoring the memory of her sleeping in the bed, her feminine jaw, her lush lips.

Abruptly snapping out of his lustful fantasies, a rough growl escaping his throat. He scattered the pieces into the glistening lake, each scrap floating. _Floating, Falling…_ The song echoed in his mind. Damn these memories! Curse himself for creating this dungeon for himself! He propelled the sheets of music that rested on his organ onto the floor in his fits of irritation. He bashed his fingers against the organ which had helped him through so much before, but now…he knew it would help. But he didn't want to play. He wanted nothing more to with music. Music reminded him of everything he didn't want to. Sitting on his black, leather bench, he put his head in his hands, in defeat. He was tired of struggling in his misery. It was time for him to become what he used to be, the Opera Ghost. It was time for him to bring fear to the young ballet rats and managers. Terror would once again flood the Opera House. Nodding, Erik agreed to himself.

Suddenly, he remembered the girl who mesmerized him. _Who was she? Maybe a new ballet girl? Or maybe a new Prima Donna? Her voice was exquisite enough. _Aggravated by his thoughts, he snarled in his easy submission. He wanted nothing to do with this girl who should repulse him. Repulse him as he repulsed himself. Erik swiped up his cape and leaped into the boat, ready to reek havoc.


	5. Chapter 5

So, I think this is my best one yet! More Erik and Evelyn time. :D

Hope you enjoy!

_**Chapter Five **_

Evelyn stayed confined in her room, awaiting the return of her grandfather. She knew he would come to her in time, whether it was to bicker some more or speak of something else. And he did.

"Evelyn?" His muffled voice called behind the door.

"Yes…" She went off, shoving her head into her pillow as the door opened.

"How are you? Have you eaten today?" He nurtured, his weight pushing down on the mattress.

"Yes, of course." She muttered, her lips pressed against the pillow covers.

"You know what today is, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow, trying to sound cheerful after his trip to the cemetery.

"No, what?" Evelyn rose her head up in confusion, questioning.

"Your birthday." He replied with a smile. Evelyn sat up quickly in shock. How had she forgotten her own birthday? Possibly, because a birthday meant one more year closer to her death. A morbid thought indeed, but was it not the truth?

"My birthday…" She echoed.

"I've already got everything set out for it! Everyone in Paris is invited!"

She sighed at his attempts to cheer her. "Poppy…I'm sorry about last night."

"Don't fret. You are forgiven." He embraced her in a hug. "Your grandmother wouldn't want us to fight like this." He soothed.

"Yes, true." Evelyn nodded, glad that her grandfather so easily forgave her.

"The party starts at six." He explained.

"What time is it now?"

"Three, my dear."

"Oh, but what am I to wear?" She complained.

"I have everything laid out for you." He eased. "That ballet girl, Alice, is suppose to come later to assist you, if it's needed."

"Delightful." She smiled. Maybe today would not turn out as she had thought. "I am so glad you are not sore with me."

"I could never stay sore with you." He beamed, giving her one last hug. "I must supervise and do some business. Goodbye." Giving her a light kiss on the forehead, he exited her chambers.

Erik made sure he stayed away from the room that he had visited only a night ago, not even rushing behind the walls that were close. How he despised his cowardly behavior, the Phantom of the Opera avoiding a young girl. He should bring fear to her, not the other way around. He had become pitiful after he, so long, was sheltered in the shadows. No more though, tonight, he heard murmurs of a party. Tonight his horrific début would occur.

The door to Evelyn's room opened to reveal an ecstatic Alice with clothes pouring from her arms. "I brought some dresses for you to try on. You look the same size as myself." After much complaining, Alice picked out a white dress that glistened with clear jewels. In the mirror, with her bright crimson locks and the dress, she looked the like an angel.

"You look beautiful." She exclaimed and Evelyn took her word. If she couldn't see herself, what did it matter anyways. "And we finished right on time." She beamed, shoving her playfully out into the hallway. Her grandfather was there.

"Alice, I'll take her from here." Her grandfather spoke, taking Evelyn's arm, wrapped around him. "Everyone is already here. They're just awaiting the birthday girl." He patted her hand. She heard the loud chatters of gossip as they grew closer and soon she was overwhelmed with happy birthdays! She forced a smile upon her lips as she was greeted by countless people she had never met, but Poppy only wanted to please her. After an exhausting few hours of small talk, she wandered away from her grandfather's range of sight, searching for an escape from all these alien people.

Evelyn pushed her way through the crowd, trying to break from her claustrophobia. Her hands slightly tracing her hands over cluster of beings, avoiding an incident where she would bump into someone. But though she worked hard to evade such a problem, she drive straight into a sturdy form. Fumbling for words she mumbled out an apology, blushing at her clumsiness. The figure flinched in terror, recognizing the girl. She felt the withdraw and went into state of awkwardness.

"It's quiet alright." The soothing voice murmured, his hot breath upon her forehead, illustrating his tall stature. The familiar melody to the man's voice triggered Evelyn to a state of calmness, yearning to be closer to him so the feeling would no evaporate. What was this? Erik recoiled once again as the woman seemed to start leaning into him. Gazing down, at her visage, her vibrant rouge lips slightly parted, welcoming and her eyes squinted, in a haze.

"What's your name, monsieur?" Her speech, rasping through her breath. Pushing herself away from him, she tried to make small talk. _It was the voice who sang to me…I mustn't care him away. This may be my only chance to speak with him. _Erik rushed with energy as she spoke and couldn't control the passion with twinkled in his eyes. How long had it been since he had even touched a women? He longed to reach up, just to caress her blushing cheek in his ungloved hand. What should he say to her? Should he really tell her his name? Few knew of the normal name he called himself. What harm could come from it even though he knew he should have nothing to do with her.

"Erik." He responded, biting back any hints of his true thoughts. Her eyes danced as she gazed up at him, her eyes, two vivacious jades. They played with his mind, exploring into his heart and soul. The Opera Ghost glimpsed away from her. _She may see too much in me…Too much horror._ She gave off no suggestion of remembrance of his voice that sang to her the other night which gave him serenity. He could speak to her with a calmness now.

"I am Evelyn." She smiled, beaming, in her pearl dress that glistened like diamonds. Her cherry hair, relaxed, on her shoulders. "It's my birthday." Right as she stated the obvious her face spread with a tint of red in embarrassment. _Of course, he would know it was her birthday, stupid. _Erik twitched, a grin almost appearing on his face. _Curse you, Evelyn. You make me flee in my own skin! Damn this! I am the Phantom of the Opera, not some child. I shall bring fear to you._ "Would you care to dance with me?" She asked, nibbling on her lower lip, her hands fidgeting. _Nervous. _Evelyn didn't know why she was getting so edgy around this man, but she liked this unknown feeling surging inside her.

"Of course, Mademoiselle." He took her hand in his, the other hand around her waist. Her nerves tingled with sensation as they danced around, his warmth bringing heat into her own body. Did he know the effect he was giving her when he just slightly moved his fingers that were placed on her lower back. Her body jolted with enjoyment. She imagined the two of them, spread apart from the rest of the guest in their own beauty. His voice gave her the presumption that he was quiet, but their was something dark about this man as well. Erik cursed to himself as each breath Evelyn took skimmed his neck, surging blood through his pulsing veins. He wanted to tell her to quit whatever spell she had put upon him, but how could she know with those wide, naive eyes. As another song dissolved, Erik stopped his movements, declining another dance. It was time he leave before it got anymore dangerous for him or her. He needed to bring a horror to the people's hearts before they left, as he had intended. They shall once again know fear. Awaiting the words from her mystery man, she left her arms dangling on her sides as he had let them go. Though his touch was gone, she could still feel the impressions where he had held her. He had held her so delicately as if he was frightened that he may break her fragile frame. If only he knew how solid she really was. "I must bid my leave, Mademoiselle."

Erik glanced around for his quick escape and before Evelyn could respond, he had left. Again, the voice left her, blind. _Why did he always leave in such a hurry? Did he figure out I knew that he was 'the voice'? I thought I concealed my knowledge well. It couldn't be that…Then what? Why was her thoughts filled with this Erik? Erik…_Now, awkward as she stood on the dance floor. She jumped as a finger lightly tapped her on her shoulder, blushing at her childlike actions as the person gave her an apology.

"My fault, Poppy. I was just…thinking." Her crimson cheeks deepened.

"Who was that man you were speaking to?" He questioned, intrigued.

"Erik." She bit her lip once again, feeling like a school girl with her first crush.

A sentence forming at the tip of his tongue, Poppy was interrupted by a few high pitched squeals of horror. He turned to the yelps and spotted a group of beings surrounding something. "Evelyn, maybe you should go to your room. Alice can take you. Where is she?" Frantically, searching, he could find no sign of the ballet girl.

"I can find it myself. I know how to get there." She sighed. _What was going on…? What had happened to her birthday party?_

Against his better judgment, in the sudden moment, he allowed her to go alone. "Fine, but be careful." Scoffing, Evelyn rose up the stairs, groping around, feeling for familiar objects and peeling wallpaper.

Chastening herself, she fumbled in her darkness. She was lost. She had acknowledged this a few minutes early, but hoped that maybe she would end up bumping into someone she knew and they could take her to her room. No such luck happened as Evelyn continued to search, opening doors and going up more and more stairs. _How many stairs were their in this place? Enough._ She had agreed with herself, smirking. Finally, discovering an unlocked door she was nipped with cold and fresh air entered her nostrils. The air, cold yet comforting, forced her to step further unto the balcony. Her grip tightened around herself as she tried to bring herself warmth. She slunk into the night's presence, her foot jamming into something hard. Her hands grazed over it softly, identifying it as a cement gargoyle. She recalled, in her teachings, that gargoyles, though scary and evil-looking, were actually suppose to ward of wicked spirits, instead of being ones themselves. _Looks are deceiving… How something horrid looking could be gentle. How something beautiful could be purely malicious. _Evelyn continued her stroll until she was blocked by the rail, keeping her from falling of the edge. Gazing at the stars, her mind bringing the glistening dots together for her enjoyment, she sighed.

Another year passed, another year closer to death. Sliding her hands over the rough, cement rail, she thought of when she was a child, calm, cool nights as these. As a child, she only had one friend who was near her age since she was not allowed to go out often. His name had been Aaron. How she missed him. He had been the shoulder she could cry on, the playmate she needed when she was lonely. His crooked smile always made her giggle when she was afraid as night's wings soared over head. It was ironic how frightened she used to be of the darkness and now, it was all she had. Her mood saddened as she recalled why she never spoke to Aaron. A little after they had attempted to escape from their families, Aaron had slipped into the lake inside the park that said across from her house and drowned. His body was found, spread out on the grass. She hadn't even been allowed to go to his funeral, as his father was wasn't fond of him anyways. Cringing at the thought of her father, she blankly listened to her surrounding. A light, continuous tap echoed. Her acute ears could hear the almost silent footsteps as if they boomed with every stride. Though she wanted to speak up, she kept quiet, waiting for them to leave or approach.

Erik smiled mischievously to himself as he dissolved away from the crowd, calls of horror, happily, playing in his ears. Heading up unto the balcony for some fresh air, the only time he could get some was in the darkness of the night, and he figured no one would be there as everyone's attention was to the terrors downstairs. He passed one of the wicked gargoyles, staring at it as if having a connection with the rock. As he bypassed another one, a dark, feminine outline caught his gaze. Quickly hiding himself, he was shocked to find her up here. Catching his breath, he hoped she hadn't seen him. He glimpsed in her direction, still in her same position. She must not have seen him, but deep inside, he wished she had, forcing him into a conversation. Taking silent steps, he drew closer, still hiding behind statues, watching her as if she was prey. _And waits for its prey . . . _He thought to himself. Her eyes glistened from the moon's illumination over her, making her almost appear dreamlike. She shivered from the chill of the sudden wind. Not even thinking, he came out of concealment and stood beside her, putting his jacket over the freezing girl.

Evelyn was surprised when the cloth brushed her bare shoulders. She smelled the memorable scent of Erik surrounding her. "Thank you…Erik." She dared, speaking his name for the first time, rolling of her lips. Hearing his name spoken in such a kind tone took him back, staring down at her. She didn't look up, unknowing of his stares, perhaps. She continued to gazed into space with her piercing eyes.

"You're welcome." He nodded, watching as she clutched the jacket, protectively, from the cold.

"Erik, do you like it up here? It's very calming." She blushed a little at her silly question, only wanting to hear his voice. _Why else would he be up here, dummy? _He nodded in reply, but Evelyn could not have seen this motion so she assumed that he didn't want to speak so she kept silent. _Why so silent…? _Moving her hand a little bit, they brushed against his, sending shocks of energy through her. Not knowing whether to shift her hand away from him, she kept it there, liking the slight touch. The feeling of her fingers rubbing his teased Erik. He wanted to cup his hand in hers, making the electricity between the two heighten, but what was he thinking? A growl vibrated his throat as he forced away lustful passions. Evelyn recoiled at the inhuman noise that escaped his lips, making the jacket slips from her slim, freckled shoulders. He turned to apologize, but instead noticed the pink scars on her upper back.

Lightly touching her raised scars, she jerked at the feeling and he wrenched his hand away._ He shouldn't have touched her. Not at all. _"I'm sorry. I just didn't expect-" She started to explain for her behavior as Erik had become silent. "They sting a little when it gets chilly. It wasn't you." _Of course, it wasn't you. You bring another feeling…the complete opposite of pain, something I've never felt before. _"I didn't know they were showing." She felt ashamed of the lines that marked her back. She brought the jacket over her shoulders, concealing them once again. A twinge of pain panged at her heart, remembering how they had gotten there. Somehow she felt almost meant to tell Erik why they were there. She could almost sense his curious gaze before her. "My father…" She choked, fighting back every emotion she could. "When my mother died at my birth, he, um…" She searched in her head of something happy so she wouldn't burst into sobs, her eyes darting about. "Blamed me and…beat me for it."

Erik felt painful blow hit his heart. Clenching his fist, he tried not to stagger. _Why should he feel bad for her? Stop this! _He argued with himself. _It's bad enough you came over here. Now resist. Women betray. Don't let her get to close. She is deceiving! _Evelyn fell victim to the silence and squirmed, uncomfortably. She shouldn't have told him. _Dumb, blind girl! _"Erik?" She whispered, grasping the jacket tightly around her. He raised and eyebrow at her in response. Again, she couldn't see that, but she continued anyways as if she did. "Wh-What do you look like?" She stumbled out. This had been a mystery to her, the only clue was that he sounded handsome, but beyond that she couldn't guess any of his features. Erik was taken back by her question. _How could he ask her what he looked like behind this mask? _"I mean, can I-" She blushed at the next question, the corners of her mouth raised. "Can I, touch you? I just like to know what the people I talk to look like." She hurried out, attempting not to get embarrassed.

"What do you mean?" Furrowing his eyebrows in question Erik truly was confused. Evelyn was shocked how this man hadn't noticed. She didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not.

"I'm blind, Erik." She breathed, intertwining her fingers together. Erik blinked, in shock. _She was blind? But how well she seemed to be without sight. Tricky, she was._

"Oh." Was all Erik could say. Impatiently, she waited for an answer and after a few minutes, she dangerously made up her mind, she was going to do it. Her hand slowly reached up to his face, brushing her hand against his cool, soft cheek, and making its way, following his jaw, to his lips. Erik stood still, her gently caresses, hypnotizing him into a rush of desire and longing to touch her as well. He moved his head to face the sky as she continued to travel her hand across his face, his eyes closed in pleasure. Too long had it been since he was truly touched by a women. His trance was abruptly shattered as he could no longer feel her touch, but he knew it was still there, no longer on skin. Evelyn's eyebrows grew closer together as the feeling of skin faded and now felt of leather. _What was this she felt on his face? Why was it there…_Before she could go further, Erik backed away in a snarl of rage.

"Do not touch me, Mademoiselle!" He barked.

"I'm sor-" She started only to be interjected by a enraged Erik.

"Leave me!" He screeched in a rough tone, throwing himself into a gargoyle. Evelyn began to weep and scrambled for the door in a rush. When Erik was sure she had found her way back inside, his breathing became rapid and suffocating as he moaned, sticky tears clinging to his mask. He stared at the moon and stars, gazing down upon, almost as if in a mocking way. Bawling, he groaned to himself, _Dans l'obscurité, nous crions ensemble ce soir._

_Dans l'obscurité, nous crions ensemble ce soir: In the dark, we cry together tonight_


End file.
